The missing link, p.4
THE MISSING LINK, page 4
She checked the windows several times, but she couldn’t see the motorbike. That was no surprise. The man had probably realized he had been spotted and had changed tactics.
As they arrived at the university, she paid the cab driver and got out, entering the familiar building in front of her. She had picked up Elliot several times, at his office on the second floor. She had never met Professor Davis though. When she showed up, Elliot usually abandoned work and left with her as fast as possible.
Ashra quickly made her way up the stairs and entered the building through the swinging doors. Students passed her on her way out, some of them—mostly male students—turning their heads as she entered; her bag thrown over her shoulder. Ashra couldn’t help but smirk. She turned to a young blonde man who passed her.
“Sorry, could you tell me where I find Professor Davis’s office?”
The young man stared at her. “You are Professor Brand’s girlfriend.”
Ashra could barely hide her surprise. “Yes, I mean, I was. Did we meet?”
“Jack Mayer. I’m one of his students. I saw you, when you picked him up after a lecture.” Jack seemed pretty enthusiastic, as if he was speaking to some kind of celebrity.
“Ah, I see. So where do I find Professor Davis, Jack?”
“Right on top of things. Third floor, the corner office.” Jack pointed to the elevator.
“Thanks, Jack.” Ashra sent him a grateful smile, before carrying on past him. She felt his eyes on her, as she walked away.
****
There was no secretary, as she had expected. The only sign Professor Davis had any more importance than his fellow colleagues was the label on his door, declaring the Head of Faculty resided in his office. Ashra was just about to knock, as the door opened; behind it was a small elderly man, with a gray beard and a perfectly fitting three-piece suit.
“Oh, I’m very sorry. I don’t have consultation hours, my dear.”
“My name is Ashra Shah, I’m a friend of Professor Brand. Professor Davis, I assume?”
“Oh, now I recognize you. Of course. Ms. Shah, what a pleasure to finally meet you.” The old man locked his door and turned to Ashra.
“I’m looking for Elliot, Professor. I hoped—”
“I have a lecture, so why don’t you walk with me and tell me what I can do for you?” The old Professor began walking down the hallway. Ashra followed him.
“Of course. As I said, I’m looking for Elliot Brand. Professor Brand. His assistant told me you might be able to help me locate him?”
“I’m afraid he’s currently not in London. Actually, the reason we have to make this conversation while we walk, is because I’m about to take over his class on methodology. I’m afraid the students will find me nowhere as entertaining as he is.” The Professor let a gentle smile play around his lips.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Anyway, do you know by any chance where Professor Brand went?”
“A dig, he told me. One that seems to hold essential puzzle pieces to that long maturing paper he’s working on. He promised me great things from it. I consider Elliot a close friend, so I gave him permission to leave, although it’s against our current policies for professors to conduct field research during the semester, without formal permission by the board.” The old man laughed. “Not that Elliot is a strong believer in rules and regulations. Always a bit of a daredevil, that one.”
“Yes, I can agree on that. So, he left without saying where he was going?”
“Oh, I asked. He just asked me if I preferred for him to lie, or if I could just accept that he couldn’t tell me.” Professor Davis didn’t seem concerned by this at all. He greeted a few students passing in the corridor.
“I see. Actually, I have heard he told a student he was going to see his ex. Which would probably be me, I guess. He never arrived in my hometown though. So, I’m a little concerned for him.” Ashra turned the corner with the old man; he stopped in front of the elevator, without calling it. He seemed to consider his words for a moment.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think he’s in danger?”
“I don’t think he meant you, when referring to his ex. I think he considered the relationship with you to be more of a . . . how do you young people call it? On/off thing?”
“Then who is this ex he wanted to visit?”
“I assume he meant his former wife, Professor Atiko Ishimura. A brilliant archeologist, who regrettably couldn’t be convinced to teach at our esteemed academy.”
“Elliot was married?” Ashra couldn’t help but voice her surprise.
The elderly professor gave her a mild smile. “The marriage ended long before you two met. It was actually what you would call a short-lived, turbulent affair. They hold each other in high regard though, professionally. I remember he wrote a glowing review of—”
Ashra raised her hand, and the professor went silent immediately. “Do you know where I can find her?” Ashra still had to wrap her head around Elliot being married. Why had he never mentioned it? They both had others before, sure. They never talked about those long-lost love interests, but a marriage? That was something else entirely.
“I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest clue. Now, I have to do this lecture, I’m afraid. If there is anything else you need? I could make some time tomorrow—”
“No, thank you, professor. I’ve taken enough of your time. I think you have helped me a lot.” Ashra offered him her hand and the elderly professor took it and shook with a firm grip.
“Good luck finding the professor then.”
As he called the elevator, Ashra turned to the stairs and felt her head spinning. Elliot was with his ex-wife? A person he held in high esteem? The concern she’d had for his whereabouts, suddenly gave way to another feeling. One she wasn’t familiar with.
Jealousy.
Chapter 4
Ashra was still lost in thought as she left the building. This hadn’t turned out the way she expected. Suddenly, Elliot wasn’t alone out there. No, he was with another woman. They were probably on an adventure, like she and him had once been. What had appeared to be a mystery which would end with her saving Elliot, was suddently a very different situation. Of course, she knew she still had to find him. The problem was . . . she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to.
Ashra put her bag down and stood for a moment in the large square in front of the faculty. She had to find this Professor Ishimura. Which meant she probably had to Google her, find out where she was a professor, then track her down. Shaking her head, she took out her phone and looked around over the campus.
Her body tensed, as she saw the crimson-red helmet. The man sat on a motorbike right at the end of the campus. Next to him stood seven more motorbikes. He turned his engine off and climbed off the vehicle, looking straight at her. Ashra’s hand went into the pocket of her jacket, where her gun was. Slowly, she began approaching him. The man still wore his helmet. Probably so that nobody could see his face—which meant he wanted to do something that would need him not to be identified. There weren’t many things one could do on a campus that actually needed anonymity.
Ashra pulled the safety button of her gun down and armed the weapon. Her steps were slow. She felt that whatever he would do, it would happen at a certain distance. The man’s hand opened the zipper of his leather jacket and slid inside. Ashra stopped and drew her gun half out. They were still forty feet away from each other.
“Where’s Elliot Brand?” The voice of the man was muffled under the helmet. She understood him just fine though.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
The man nodded. Students turned to him—as a man with a helmet on draws attention. “Then I need you to come with me now, Ashra Shah.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
“Do you want to do this here? With all these civilians?”
Ashra looked around. There were about a dozen students present. None of them were in the line of fire. As Ashra turned her head back at the man with the helmet—he was about to draw his gun.
She had no time to draw her own, but her finger slipped on the trigger and pulled it in her pocket. The shot ripped through her jacket and she felt the heat of the muzzle flare at her side.
The man with the helmet was hit and fell backwards to the ground. Quickly, Ashra pulled her jacket off and tossed it aside, before taking the gun into both hands and aiming at the man.
As if he had never been penetrated by a 9mm bullet, he sat up and drew his own gun. Body armor. He had to be wearing some sort of vest under his jacket. The man’s gun was equipped with a silencer and pulling it out with this prolonged barrel took a little too much time. Ashra fired again. The people around her screamed and ran. Some took cover, others just tried to get away. She ignored them completely, emptying half her magazine into her mysterious attacker. Blood sprayed from the wounds, as both his arm and leg were hit. Gasping out in pain, he let go of his gun and tried to turn, to get on all fours. This was the only way he could hope to rise to his feet.
Ashra took aim and fired another shot, precisely where the helmet met the neck. The bullet ripped through the man’s spine and his body collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been severed. She kept her gun pointed at him, as if she expected him to miraculously shake off a shot to the spine. Of course, he didn’t.
“Stop right there! Please, be calm!” The voice came from the side and Ashra turned her head. A policeman in a black uniform stood there, his baton in his hand. She remembered cops didn’t carry guns here in London. Not regularly, at least. Carefully she went half to her knees and dropped the gun to the ground.
“My name is Ashra Shah, I’m with the Nepalese Embassy and I have diplomatic immunity,” she declared, as she put her hands behind her head. She wondered if she in fact had diplomatic immunity; this mission was a bit of an unofficial one. She wondered if the director had cared to arrange for this. After all, nobody had expected her to get into this kind of trouble. The policeman, who had been brave and stupid enough to approach an armed opponent, grabbed her. The next thing she knew, her face touched the ground. Her hands were dragged behind her back, and she felt the handcuffs close around her wrists.
****
Interrogation cells kind of looked the same everywhere. White, clinical and sparsely filled with a desk and seats. These seats were pretty comfortable, and the table was made of fine wood. An audio recording system was integrated into the surface. Ashra had been here for an hour, with no sign of the lawyer or the embassy representative she had requested. She expected that they weren’t coming.
When the door opened, this hunch was confirmed. The man who entered was in his late thirties, blonde with piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a tightly fitted, modern-cut, blue three-piece suit. He gave her a jovial smile, before he put a file on the table and sat down. Ashra assumed this wasn’t a cop. The way he was holding himself, and his expensive suit, told her that much.
“Ashra Shah,” he said, folding his hands. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Thanks. I’d say the same, but I don’t think we had the pleasure. But I guess my attorney is not on his way, is he?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s not.” The man sneered at her, then with a sudden movement his body snapped forward and he extended his hand. “Rupert Miller, MI6.”
“You got here fast,” Ashra said.
“The moment your name popped up I made my way here. Actually, I was very eager to meet you. I have the feeling we have a lot in common.” He shrugged.
“I have diplomatic immunity, you shouldn’t hold me,—”
“It seems your bureau has forgotten to take care of that. At the moment you’re nothing but a suspect in a shooting. A woman who killed a man on the campus of the university, with an unregistered gun.”
“It was self-defense. But yeah, I didn’t expect that one either.”
“So, how is it going? Your mission?”
“You know I’m not allowed to talk about my mission, Miller. Not even to an agent of an allied—”
“Rupert, please. Well, of course you can’t tell. So, I’ll guess, and whenever I’m totally wrong you let me know, okay?”
“You like playing games?” Ashra asked, tilting her head.
“Not exactly, but our job includes playing games, right? Always these games we play.” Rupert straightened himself. “So, let us play. I assume your agency sent you all the way from Kathmandu to our wonderful London, because you’re looking, for someone. Someone you can’t find, probably because he doesn’t want to be found. A man of special importance to your government and even more so for you. Professor, Doctor Elliot Brand.” He stared right at her. “How am I doing?”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal any—”
“I’m looking for him too. The British government asked your government for insight.”
“Yes, the request was forwarded to me.” Ashra gave him a nod. “Don’t you want to offer me coffee or something? I thought you begin interrogations with a positive gesture.”
“This is not an interrogation. It actually is an evaluation. So, no coffee, I’m afraid. Not yet.”
“What are you evaluating?”
“If we can help each other, or if I let you rot in here for ten years to get a head start. You see, for a spy, I’m quite an honest guy.”
“Which I appreciate.” Ashra gave a deep sigh. She knew this was his home turf, he could certainly make his threat true.
“Listen, Ashra; you’re all alone. No team, no resources. You’re said to be a clever one, sure. But I have the might of MI6 behind me. I have men, resources, money, transport. Anything we need. A whole division can gather data for me.” Rupert shrugged. “Let me help you. We’ve both only want to find him and make sure he returns safely.”
“Why are you so interested in him? I mean he’s just a professor.” Ashra leaned forward.
“‘Just a professor.’ Ashra, he made not one, but two history altering discoveries within twenty-four months.”
“You believe him then?”
“Someone within our agency does. Or at least, we can’t rule out entirely that he’s right. Which is enough for us not to want him to vanish.” Rupert folded his arms. “I actually heard the rumor he was on his way to you.”
“That’s an assumption which turned out to be wrong.” Ashra mirrored him by folding her arms too. “Who was the man who tried to kill me?”
“Someone incredibly hard to identify. We think he was Irish. A contract killer,” Rupert said.
“Okay, listen, I was a bit less anxious about Elliot. I have no idea where he is. But I know who he is with and, also, although I didn’t exactly like it, I felt he might actually be safe. That lasted an entire five minutes. Then a man tried to kill me, right there on the campus. That makes me a little nervous about his safety, to be honest. He might be in some sort of trouble.” Ashra looked at Rupert who only nodded.
“I agree.”
“So, if I tell you what I know, you won’t cut me out? This is a cooperation?”
“Exactly.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You still trust people? I got rid of that habit a decade ago. No, I expect you not to trust me. I expect you to make a risk assessment and then decide what to gain and what you could lose by cooperating. Then you will make that call.” Rupert unfolded his hands finally. “Right?”
Ashra knew he was right. Actually, he was right about all of it.
“Professor Atiko Ishimura. She seems to be his ex-wife. It’s possible, even likely, he’s with her now. Can you locate her?”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Rupert answered.
“Okay, what about . . . this?” Ashra looked around the interrogation room.
“Oh, as you said, you clearly acted in self-defense. Speaking of which, how did he find you? That man?”
“A question I asked myself. He was at the airport, so he seems to have known I was coming and followed me right from the airport. When he confronted me, he asked where Elliot is. He then pretty quickly decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“Strange. So, someone hired a killer to find Professor Brand. Happily, he was overconfident.” Rupert stood up.
“Yes. He was.”
“There is a Starbucks right next to the station. I’m calling Central and then we’ll meet down there in fifteen minutes.” Rupert got up and made his way to the door without awaiting an answer.
Chapter 5
Ashra wasn’t stopped by anyone as she walked out the police station. It was almost as if she was invisible; a nod of greeting here and there, but no cop seemed to even consider stopping her. She almost expected them to hand her gun back, when she got her stuff. Of course, police didn’t do that. Not even if afraid of an MI6 agent scaring the hell out of them. So, she got her phone, her jacket with the hole in it. Her bag came last; Ashra grabbed it from the desk and looked at the overweight woman with curly hair sitting right in front of her.
“Do I have to sign anything?” Ashra asked.
“Apparently not, my dear. I was told you have never been here,” the woman answered, chewing on some gum. Then she raised her brows. “Good luck with Mister Slippy.”
“You know him?”
“I know his kind. City boys. They think they rule the world, exist on a higher plane. When all they do is have a license to be just as corrupt as everybody else.”
“Okay, you really love your spooks around here.” Ashra flashed her a smile and turned to leave.
“Want some advice?”
Ashra turned half around. “Always.”
“Watch your back.” The woman’s face told her she was serious.
“Always. Thank you.” Ashra left. With quick steps, she made her way out of the building and indeed there was a Starbucks, announcing its presence with the iconic corporate logo and a group of people leaving the premises with tall paper cups.
Ashra got into the line, looking forward to getting a white chocolate mocha. She had missed those. Every time she had escorted Elliot to university, they had stopped at one of those and he had a black coffee, while she had one of those white chocolate coffees.
